


The Game

by Novachester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, PWP, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novachester/pseuds/Novachester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean proposes a game to help better Castiel's endurance now that he's human. It just so happens that the game includes toys that vibrate and focuses on a very specific aspect of Castiel's endurance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

_This is torture,_ Castiel thinks. He never should have agreed to this abhorrent game, but when Dean presented him with the remote controlled plugs and the challenge of endurance, he found himself unable to say no.  
   
Regardless, he’s never had a lot luck denying Dean much of anything these days, particularly not when Dean’s smiling slyly and slowly unbuttoning Castiel’s pants, lube and a vibrating plug at the ready.  
   
So now Castiel stands in the kitchen, painstakingly putting away cutlery while a vibrating plug whirrs away in his ass, putting a tremble in his legs and a swirl of gut wrenching arousal coursing through his blood. There’s no consistency, no rhythm that Castiel can become accustomed to, just a constant barrage of alternating patterns and intensity that rumbles inside of him and touches every pleasurable nerve in him.  
   
Ever since becoming human, Castiel’s had a significantly lower tolerance for pain, pleasure and everything in between, but Dean had compared Castiel’s endurance to any other muscle, explaining that he would need to exorcise it to improve it, hence the game. All Castiel has to do is fulfill a daily chore routine without coming violently in his pants like an overstimulated adolescent.  
   
Easier said than done, especially with Dean controlling the vibrations of his plug. There’s a sudden spike in the intensity of the vibrations and Castiel barely manages to catch himself on the counter, gasping in a ragged breath as his muscles tighten reflexively around the plug, worsening the excruciating pleasure.  
   
Viciously, Castiel cranks up the vibrations on Dean’s plug the second he can and feels a measure of satisfaction when he hears Dean moan in the other room.  
   
“You asshole,” Dean calls out, his voice a trembling thing.  
   
Castiel manages a smile. “You started it.”  
   
They’ve been at this for nearly two hours, playing with the plug settings and bickering back and forth about who would be able to last longer, but gradually the back and forth had faded as the pleasure became more than they could stand to multitask with.  
  
Vacuuming was the worst, Castiel thinks. Pushing the machine back and forth as he walked, aggravating the plug with every step he took, _stairs_. Once this is over, he’s certain he’ll never take any of it for granted again. Everything is too much at once, the heat, the motion, the _pleasure_. He’ll never understand how something can be perfect and terrible at once.  
  
In actually though, the steam from the dishwasher as he’d opened it had really been the worst, a gust of hot air that washed over his skin and made him whimper. He’s managed to get through it though, but for how much longer he can do this, he can’t say. He can practically hear his internal endurance clock rabidly ticking away to nothing.  
   
Castiel takes a shaky breath as he leans against the counter, closing his eyes. Dean’s changed the pulse of the vibrator to quick little bursts that spark up and down Castiel’s spine. He’d thought initially that he would just eventually become numb to it, but instead it’s only become more intense, his release building with near painful pressure in his cock and balls, which sit heavily, his dick jerking within the confines of his underwear.  
   
“Fuck,” he murmurs softly, a habit he’s picked up from Dean. He grips the base of his cock in a last ditch attempt to somehow ease the pressure of his rapidly impending orgasm, but as he cries out he realizes any firm touch at all is agony, the whispered promise of release too much to bear in his overly sensitive pleasure-pain haze.  
   
Dean’s not doing any better, bent over the tub and scrubbing. The angle isn’t doing him any favors at all, pushing the bulb of the plug snug against his prostate and sending tremors all through his body.  
  
Every time he tries to shift or fix the angle, he only manages to make it worse. Part of him is questioning his own sanity for ever proposing a game like this, but a much more depraved part of him is salivating over the fact Cas is in the other room losing his mind as he struggles to clean the bunker without coming in his pants, probably thinking over and over that it was Dean who put the vibrator in him.  
  
“Whoa there, okay, shut the fuck up,” Dean says to himself, his own thoughts beginning to get the better of him. The last thing he needs is to fantasize himself into his own loss, to lose himself in the image of Cas bent over the counter and whimpering, rutting into nothing as the desperation gets more and more—  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean hisses, resisting the urge to bang his head on the edge of the bathtub, wishing he could focus on anything other than his own pleasure or the mental image of Cas’s pleasure. It’s a double-edged sword, the fact he can’t see Cas right now, can’t watch him crumble and buckle under the weight of his own delayed gratification. Dean would do anything to see that, but if he watches for too long, he knows he’ll never be able to hold on.  
  
…Fuck it.  
  
With a pained grunt, Dean hauls himself up from the ground, staggering somewhat. He’s definitely played around with his fair share of kinky shit in the past, including orgasm denial, but he honestly wasn’t expecting Cas to last this long. Dean was expecting the guy to be overwhelmed by his newfound humanity and crumble within the hour. Instead, Dean finds himself working against thousands upon thousands of years of self-discipline which evidently, even without the benefit of grace, is a more than formidable foe.  
  
Dean has to see it. He can’t stand just hearing the occasional grunt anymore. He wants to see the sweat, the flush. He wants to see those pretty baby blues all glassy from the strain of it and desperate for something, anything, that will relieve the pressure Dean knows Cas is feeling, if only from personal experience.  
  
When Dean gets there, he finds Cas grabbing uncertainly at his cock, only to reel back, as though burned.  
  
“Giving up already, Cas?” Dean asks from the doorway, leaning against it. Cas’s face is flushed red and there’s sweat beading along his hairline, the outline of his hard cock fully visible through the thin layer of his sweat pants. Not that Dean can talk, since his own dick is straining against his jeans, painfully obvious.  
   
Castiel licks his lips before he manages to look up from the line of Dean’s dick and to his lust-clouded green eyes, the color of them nearly consumed by the dark swell of his pupils. “I’m only getting started,” he responds, but the sensations, the pressure, it’s so intense that he can hardly walk. His eyelids flutter shut and he bites his lip, desperate to think of something less arousing than Dean staring at him like that, as desperate and wanton as he himself is.  
   
“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Dean says, his gait off as he walks towards Castiel, looking caught somewhere between recovering from a good fuck and being in critical need of one. “Looks to me like you’re about to lose it.”  
   
“Cheater,” Cas hisses as Dean kisses the edge of his jaw, goose bumps spreading at an alarming pace over every inch of his skin. He grabs Dean’s shoulders and digs his dull nails in, rough and just on the right side of pain, the way he knows Dean likes it best.  
   
“Can’t help it,” Dean says against Cas’s ear, voice airy and wrecked. “Look so fuckin’ good, sound like a porn star, panting and moaning in here while you do the fucking dishes.”  
   
They both laugh breathlessly at that, but there’s still an unspoken refusal between them to give in, to fall into the heat of each other’s bodies. They’ve both lasted for so long, kept strong the dam that it’s almost a frightening thought to let go now, to lose this intoxicating thrill of true need and desperation.  
   
“Touch me,” Dean pleads, his breath hot along the crook of Castiel’s neck, where he keeps dropping tiny, teasing butterfly kisses.  
   
Castiel stops his hand just short of Dean’s throbbing hard cock, struggles to resist the knee-jerk urge to comply. “I won’t have you blame your loss on me.”  
   
With a frustrated little growl, Dean backs away. “Fine, but I’m not wearing this shit anymore,” he says, and quickly begins unbuckling his belt, shucking his jeans and underwear down. Castiel feels a new stab of arousal as Dean’s swollen cock bobs free, his hands clenching eagerly on the counter behind him.

  
“Seems an unfair advantage,” Castiel replies before steadying himself on his feet. He reaches around and unties the drawstrings of his pants, one sharp tug before they pool on the ground around his feet. The cool air feels like a lash to the dripping wet head of his dick and he can’t quite stifle the keen that escapes his throat.  
  
Dean looks wild, his lips parted, _hungry_. One of the biggest factors in Dean’s arousal is his innate need to satisfy his partner, and Castiel can see the waver in his knees, knows Dean is contemplating dropping to them. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” Dean breathes, a soft little confession that makes Castiel’s engorged cock jump, an agonizing spike of need that punches the air from his lungs. “Fuck, wanna taste you. Need it so bad, could probably get off on just that taste.”  
  
“You’re a monster,” Castiel gasps, head tipping back. There’s a soft _thud_ and then Dean really is on his knees, hands braced on Castiel’s thighs as he nuzzles along Cas’s inner thigh, tiny little nips and licks. Castiel moans _loudly_ , hands falling to Dean’s hair. Both of them have forgotten the remotes to the respective plugs in the pockets of their discarded pants, but neither of them can be brought to care. It’s like they’re reached a plateau of their own desperation and all they can do is ride it out, revel in the intensity of their own bodies as the pressure builds and builds beyond pain or pleasure.  
  
Dean’s breath ghosts hotly across Castiel’s throbbing cock and fuck, it’s too much! Castiel yanks Dean back by his hair and their groans chorus together, their skin sheened with sweat and too warm. “I c—I can’t, Dean, I’m going to—I can’t.”  
  
Neither of them are properly coherent, babbling nonsensically. Cas drops down to his knees and sends off a prayer of thanks for how cool the tiled floors are against his sweltering skin. “Lay back,” he orders. Dean does, lies down on his back and moans shamelessly at the cold press of the floor to his skin. Cas reaches over to his pants and snatches up the remote, changes the settings on Dean’s plug to match his own, quick bursts. Dean whines, but Castiel isn’t finished yet.  
  
“It’s time to settle this,” Castiel hisses through clenched teeth, swinging his leg over Dean’s body to straddle him before he adjusts onto his hands and knees, bringing his mouth parallel to Dean’s heavy, leaking dick, while Dean has full access to his. Without another word, Castiel leans in and gives one tiny kitten lick to the wet head of Dean’s cock.  
  
Dean’s whole body jerks like he’s been electrocuted, his hands flying to Castiel’s thighs to hold on tight. “Son of a bitch,” Dean whimpers, high pitched and broken. “Fine, you f-fucker. Let’s dance.”  
  
Castiel’s arms practically give out when Dean licks a firm line along his balls, a quick swipe that shouldn’t have him trembling like this, panting over top Dean’s cock, barely holding himself up on his knees and elbows. It’s not just a contest of endurance anymore; it’s a _race_ , one to see who can push the other over the finish line first.  
  
It’s possibly the most timid oral they’ve ever had, barely-there little licks and extensive amounts of heavy breathing as they try to compose themselves, try to keep control of themselves while forcing the other to lose it.  
  
It’s a careful balance, each of them struggling not to dole out more than they can take, lest the retaliation tip them over the edge before their partner.  
  
Dean is merciless, using his advantage of being on the bottom. He doesn’t need to hold himself up, so instead he cups Castiel’s balls and licks at them, daring to go so far as tease Castiel’s stretched, puffy and pink rim. Cas gasps, and in response, sucks the tip of Dean’s cock right into his mouth.  
  
“Fuck!” Dean nearly shouts, but he can’t stop himself from bucking up and he catches Castiel by surprise, gagging him suddenly. As Cas pulls off to take an uneven breath, Dean decides the gloves have just come off. He grabs Castiel’s ass and _yanks_ him down, bringing his cock with him and into the hot, wet slide of Dean’s mouth, all the way to the tip, and he sucks Castiel down like it’s his last day on earth.  
  
Cas never had a chance. He gives a cry like something in him has broken, the force of his orgasm ripping through him with such veracity that, if he had the capacity for thought, he might think himself about to pass out. There’s so much come that Dean can’t swallow it all fast enough, feels it dribble over and spill.  
  
It goes on for what feels like forever, waves of pleasure and tiny spurts of come, all of it built up for so long, the pain and the pressure fading away to just a dull, blessed ache, like muscles being relaxed after working too hard.  
  
Cas collapses forward and fuck, it’s stupid, but that’s what finally does the trick for Dean. Cas’s stubble covered cheek brushes along the length of his dick and the shock of it (as well as his own relief) tips him over the edge, come shooting along Castiel’s shoulder and even over his back. By the time it ends, Dean feels so wrung out, empty, useless and utterly incapable of any kind of movement, even with Cas’s limp dick hanging in his face while the guy lulls half asleep on top of him.  
  
Cas does manage to do Dean the blessed favor of removing the vibrator from his ass, and Dean does the same thing in turn, clicking the toy off before dropping it to the side. The two of them drift into a comfortable silence, recovering from the unbelievable show of restrain and the subsequent blowout of it.  
  
After a time, Cas is the first to speak. “I lost,” he says, and Dean thinks he was going for morose, but the relief and pleasure between them is so palpable that he fails completely, his speech slurred and relaxed.  
  
Dean laughs, nuzzling at the crook where Cas’s thigh meets his pelvis. Castiel jerks a tiny bit, still sensitive. “If you consider the best orgasm of your life a loss, I don’t even wanna know what a win is, but… We can always try again sometime. Best two outta three, maybe?”  
  
Castiel huffs a soft little laugh, struggling and shifting until he’s face to face with Dean, making himself comfortable on top of him. “Best two out of three,” he agrees, and so begins Castiel’s _extensive_ training regimen.


End file.
